


Getting Married

by orphan_account



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge [25]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2001717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Getting Married

The bets had been going on for years before the invitations were sent out. What would it be like? The wedding of MI6’s Quartermaster, and MI6’s top operative Commander James Bond, 007. Half of Headquarters thought Bond would take over, organise everything extravagantly, complete with explosions timed to the steps down the aisle and everyone dressed in something that cost at least a year’s salary. There would be alcohol galore and none of the food would be written in English. All of MI6 would be invited and Bond would outdo everyone and wear his old Navy uniform, rising to the role of Commander rather than assassin for the day he legally gave himself to someone other than his country.

The other half thought that if Q had managed to keep Bond in line this far, he would have his way with the wedding, too. It would be quiet and casual, perfectly personal, but lacking any of the glamour that Bond would want to mark the occasion. A few thought the Quartermaster could even persuade 007 to wear jeans. Please, the majority scoffed, as if he even owned any.

A very few special cases thought that Q would unleash his A.I.-drones they all knew he was hiding in the back-cupboards of Q-branch and make them present the ceremony, but they got politely directed to the communal coffee-pot and the elusive Artificial Intelligence wasn’t mentioned again.  
As word got out that they were finally engaged, money starting pouring in to Eve, who had long since decreed that she would be organising the betting-pool and would receive fifteen percent of the winnings.

 

*** 

 

“But I just don’t see the point, Q,” Bond said for what must have been the fifth time that evening. He was stirring the pasta sauce, careful not to spill any on his jeans, while Q was waiting for the kettle to boil, fiddling with his ring. It was a new habit that Bond thoroughly approved of.

“It’s a once in a lifetime thing, James! Not to mention that the last time MI6 got a wedding was over a decade ago and it would break their collective hearts if they weren’t involved.”

“I understand that bit, but I don’t see why you think a huge, flashy event is necessary. It’s not like anything is really going to change. We’re already living together, everything I own is already set to go to you if I die again, you even own half my car!”

“The better half,” Q said, smirking, remembering the rocket launchers.

“Can’t it just be something simple for once?” Bond balanced the spoon on top of the saucepan and walked over to Q, capturing his hips with his hands. “I’m so used to things going wrong, Q. And I’m not worried about us, so stop that train of thought before your mind overruns with it, I just mean that I want this to be something incredibly special, something that we’ll think about again and again. And I don’t want us to think that it was all made up just for everyone else’s enjoyment… Does that sound selfish?”

Q smiled and cupped Bond’s face with his hands before kissing him softly.

“No. You’re right. MI6 is happy if we’re happy, and this day’s meant to be about you.”

“About us,” Bond corrected before tapping Q on the nose. Q laughed before he looked over Bond’s shoulder at the hot-plates.

“As much as I love you, I’m definitely not as inclined to marry you if you let my sauce burn.”

Bond saluted smartly before saving the sauce with an expert stir.

“Yes, sir.”

 

*** 

 

The highly anticipated day arrived and the entirety of MI6, agents and handlers on missions excluded, were crammed into the biggest meeting hall in HQ, but the room was almost unrecognisable. It was all done up in colours so soft no one would’ve expected Bond to be part of it, and so artistic the staff of Q-branch felt confused on their leader’s behalf.   
There were minimal flowers, and the altar was merely the usual lectern, moved into the middle of the presentation stage. But it was the backdrop that had most people gasping.  
The whole back wall was a perfect rendition of Turner’s Fighting Temeraire. The colours were perfect and none of the intricate detail had been lost in the massive upscaling the painting had received. Those who knew what it meant smiled to themselves. It was always nice to have something personal at a wedding.

Slowly, a gentle piano piece began playing over the speakers and Eve and R walked in through the open doors, both looking stunning in their light blue dresses, followed by M, Tanner, and Alec who were wearing soft grey suits. Behind them, hand in hand, Bond and Q entered, in almost matching black tuxedos that bought out the best in both of them.

The music continued as the ceremony began. Bond and Q had unrestrainedly struck out different lines in the suggested service that either didn’t suit them individually, or were laughable no matter who was getting married, so the MI6-approved minister only spoke for a minimal time before it was time for the couple’s vows. The two men faced each other, joy lighting up their features as they held hands underneath the painting, surrounded by their friends and colleagues, not caring in that moment that there were people from Treasury there, that there were six (and a half) international crisis that had to be dealt with in the next forty-five minutes, and that Bond was due to leave for Shanghai in under six hours. Even the persistent, mundane thoughts that usually plagued Q’s active mind fell silent as Bond inhaled and spoke loud enough to be heard across the whole hall.

“My dearest Q. When we first met, there was a storm brewing. As you know, I took one look at you and immediately dismissed you as another piece of debris that would only last long enough to find a replacement. At the end of that first mission I changed my mind, instead deciding that you were a factor of the wind. Not necessarily able to change the direction, or the course of the destruction, but at least able to ride it out. In the years, the conversations, and the missions that followed, I was forced to admit that I had completely misread you. You’re so genuine, I convinced myself there was another side to you, a darker side that would trap me, and I fought off the growing curiosity, reminding myself how such things play out. And it wasn’t until I woke up in Medical at 4:52 on the morning of Friday 9th September, three years after we met, with a shattered foot, did I realise that I had wasted all this time second-guessing the most important, and the most sincere person I’ve ever met. I promised myself then and there that I would never waste another day. Because you’re the eye of the storm, the centre of the decisions that save lives and change the world. You are my heart. You are my home.”

A few of the more knowledgeable members of MI6 were wiping their eyes. The rest of them were in shock that these words were voluntarily coming out of 007’s mouth.

“This is certainly one of the happiest days of my life, but I promise that from every day onwards, just like every day since I met you, I will love you more, protect you always, and make you happier than you’ve ever known.”

Bond inhaled deeply. Emotions were so difficult, and the length of Alec’s grin was throwing him off, but he didn’t care. Q’s eyes were shining just like after Bond had told him he loved him for the first time, after Bond had proposed and, funnily enough, the one time Bond bought back all his equipment intact. Q took a few deep breaths himself and ran over his speech in his mind, it was shorter than Bond’s, but Q was used to getting straight to the point.

“James. When I arrived in Q-branch, everyone warned me about 007. They told me to not expect any equipment back, any politeness or courtesy over the comms, and not to get involved. I think we can say that we always knew they were wrong. I love my job, but no one mentioned how lonely it would be. I didn’t even have a name. I was scared for the first few months that I would forget who I was, or what it was like to be a normal person. When I met you, I was taken aback, but not because of the reasons that I was forewarned of, but rather because of the fact that you made me feel alive, feel human. You make me feel like me. And you make me feel loved. I may guide you through whatever explosion you decided was a good idea at the time, but you have always made sure that I never lost myself. You saved me then. And you’ve saved me every day since. You’re my anchor, you’re my shelter, you’re my heart, and you’re my soul. I’ve already promised to love you forevermore, but I promise I will care for you, appreciate you, and make every day worth it, and every mission worth coming back from. I love you, and, in front of all these people, I hereby promise that after our honeymoon, I will build you an exploding pen.”

The minions paled simultaneously, but everyone else was on their feet, clapping as the newlyweds walked back down the aisle, hearts singing. Bond had never felt lighter than he did in that moment, and he knew that between him and Q, they could take on the world. And win.


End file.
